gentle and refined in his manner, intelligent, very good-looking,
and always dressed in perfect taste. He was accused of being, in
business matters, as cold, as polished, and as hard as one of the
marble slabs of the Morgue; but then, no one was obliged to employ
him unless they chose to do so. This much is certain: he did not
frequent cafes or places of amusement. If he went out at all
after dinner, it was only to pass the evening at the house of some
rich client in the neighborhood. He detested the smell of
tobacco, and was inclined to be devout--never failing to attend
eight o'clock mass on Sunday mornings. His housekeeper suspected
him of matrimonial designs, and perhaps she was right.

On the evening that the Count de Chalusse was struck with apoplexy
M. Isidore Fortunat had been dining alone and was sipping a cup of
tea when the door-bell rang, announcing the arrival of a visitor.
Madame Dodelin hastened to open the door, and in walked Victor
Chupin, breathless from his hurried walk. It had not taken him
twenty-five minutes to cover the distance which separates the Rue
de Courcelles from the Place de la Bourse.

"You are late, Victor," said M. Fortunat, quietly.

"That's true, monsieur, but it isn't my fault. Everything was in
confusion down there, and I was obliged to wait "

"How is that? Why?"

"The Count de Chalusse was stricken with apoplexy this evening,
and he is probably dead by this time."